Swing Life Away
by Whoneedsasword
Summary: I have been inspired by some people and their excellent Chibs/Fiona stories that they have posted lately, because anybody who has ever read my stories knows I love them. I figured if they can post it, so can I! This is going to be a short story about how Chibs and Fiona came to be.
1. Chapter 1

**UPDATE: SO sorry for this originally being posted with the AN in the middle of the chapter. I blame Doc Manager. Hopefully this corrects the issue!**

**So it shouldn't be a surprised to anybody who has ever read and of my fics that I am a HUGE Chibs/Fiona shipper. I could go on and on about how dumb I think it is that Chibs' family had been entirely written off, but I won't do that. I haven't posted a lot of what I have written, because honestly I am will aware that they don't have a super popular relationship and I wasn't sure anybody would want to read it. A few writers who have posted their own Chibs/Fiona stories lately have inspired me to post this one, because even if it is unpopular...I really don't care!**

**This is going to be relatively short, probably 4-5 chapters, as to how they met and how they came to be. I hope that if you chose to read it, you enjoy it and leave some reviews! If you are not a fan, that's fine, but keep your remarks to yourself, please. Anyway, this is dedicated to Ambrosia Rush, Land of the Delta Blues, and skywasmadeofamethyst. You all rock!**

It started in a park; _they_ started in a park. In all honesty, it was just a simple, run of the mill, rundown park. There was a swingset and a picnic table and a few trees and an old slide and some sand, but there was nothing particularly impressive about tit at all. Years ago, before any of their history started, it had been a fresh, shiny new area where children played and mothers gossiped, but that all ended in a spray of bullets courtesy of the IRA not long after it was built. That ended the flood of families spending afternoons at the local park and allowed it to become a rundown place where nothing but love ever grew.

In the beginning, it was easy. It was a park, in the middle of south Belfast, not far from their schools or their houses or the places where kids hung out. They walked past it everyday, and occasionally Fiona would stop to read a book under the shady tree, or Filip would stop at the picnic table and use it as a quiet place to work on homework. It was almost as if they were bound to meet, right from the beginning.

Of course, later, after their history had run its course, Fiona would curse the park. Each and every time she walked by it, which was often considering the fact that she still lived in her childhood home, she tried not to look; tried not to recall the ever present memories of a boy with messy hair and brown eyes and a smile that lit up her world. Of course, every time they walked by it, Kerrianne begged to stop "just for a few minutes", desperate for a chance on the swings or the slide. She could never understand why her mother had tears in her eyes when she refused.

Their long, and at times tragic, love story began on a Tuesday afternoon. It was the beginning of a school year, and for Fiona, that meant long days of pretending to be a well adjusted Catholic school girl who was immune to the strange stares and rude comments. It also meant a lot of work and a lot less time to herself to read and doodle and live in her own little world inside her head. For Filip, the beginning of this particular school year meant a new school that he hated and a new city that he hated and new people that he hated. For her, he was the first person who dared her to step outside of her own head and take a chance with him. For him, she was his chance for a bit of happiness and sunshine in his bleak world, literally the only part of his life that wasn't miserable.

She was rushing as far from school as she could get, after an exceptionally long and exhausting day at school. She had suffered through Algebra, European History, Mass, and the dreaded Chemistry class, all in one day. She had spent her lunch hour fretting in the girl's room about how she was possibly going to pass chemistry; her thoughts had encompassed her so astutely that she had actually forgotten to eat. By the end of the day, she was stressed, hungry, and nearly in tears over the prospect of an entire semester in a science lab, learning a subject she would never, ever use.

Walking home from school that day, Fiona had a lot on her mind. She should rush home and start revising and begin dinner before her father arrived home. He always told her that she was a better cook than Nanny was, and if there was anything she wanted in the world, it was to make her father proud and happy. He was all she had in the world, and it wouldn't do to let him down. That thought in her brain caused her to walk a little faster.

Even years later, Fiona had no idea what had made her look up as she passed the park. She walked by the park every single day, and only rarely did she ever take note of it. That Tuesday, though something caused her to glance across the street as she walked past, long enough to see the breeze blow strong enough to move the swing the smallest amount, almost as if it was taunting her, begging her to come swing, just for a few moments. If she was honest though, perhaps it was the boy sitting alone underneath the tree, book in hand, the same breeze blowing his hair in all directions, that really captured her attention, not that she would ever admit it.

It wasn't hard to convince herself to cross the street. The sight of the boy under the tree, looking completely relaxed with his tie thrown off and his school shirt unbuttoned to reveal a comfortable looking undershirt, intrigued her. The way he sat there, staring at the book in his hand as if he had no place else in the world to be. Until right that second, she had been convinced that she was the only one in the world who felt that way, and the fact that this strange new boy was sitting there, free as a bird, doing exactly what she wished she was doing, caught and kept her attention. Fiona had grown up in this town and, due to her fathers associations, she knew most of the people her own age. She was quite sure that she had never seen him before just now.

In her head, she knew that a sixteen year old girl sitting on a swing and staring was more than a little creepy, so she tried her best to act nonchalant. There was a subtle art to glancing out the side of your eyes and seeing as much as you could see, and luckily Fiona had perfected it at a young age. She entered the small gate and managed a tiny glance toward the boy. His eyes remained on his book, as though he hadn't noticed her. Good; she wasn't really a fan of being noticed.

The more she sort of, kind of, a little bit looked at him, the more she wanted to look at him. His hair was long, too long to be considered appropriate at her school. That fact told her that he went to the public school. Her classmates at the expensive private school her father insisted upon tended to look down on the public school kids. The boys she had known since she was a toddler, the ones with expensive leather shoes and short, impeccably trimmed hair, tended to more violently look down on the public school kids. Fiona suddenly felt glad that she didn't have any friends to walk home with her.

The slightest bit of movement, caused by the boy using his right had to scratch his left elbow, had Fiona's eyes pointing directly ahead, for fear of being caught staring. She suddenly realized that she was just sitting on the swing like a lump, and if the mystery boy ever decided to look up from his book, she would be considered highly suspicious. She used her feet to push off a bit and enjoyed the swooping feeling of the swing rushing forward. It had been years since she had spent any time on a swing set, but the familiar sensation and routine came right back. Quite suddenly, she remembered exactly why the swings had always been her very favorite thing at the playground.

As she swung higher and higher, she felt more free than she had in a long time. It felt like she was flying, but instead of being nervous or afraid, she felt grand. She wasn't thinking about her father and how disappointed he would be while he ate Nanny's cooking tonight. She wasn't thinking about how she should be studying her chemistry, because failing was not an option. She wasn't even thinking about the boy sitting under the tree, or how his messy brown hair might feel under her fingertips. In fact she wasn't thinking about anything at all, except how great this felt, and then she realized very suddenly that she was laughing, out loud, where anyone could hear her.

It took a full minute for the swing to come to a stop and for Fiona to catch her breath again. For years, she had forgotten about the joys of being carefree on a park swing, of laughing loud enough to be heard. Now that she had rediscovered the experience, she knew for a fact that she would be coming back much more often to enjoy the simple pleasure, though perhaps next time she chose to laugh to herself with reckless abandon, she would make sure she was alone. With a sigh of displeasure, she realized that she had pretty much spoiled any chance of getting to know anything about this boy, as people generally didn't talk to crazy girls who laughed at themselves in parks.

Fiona found herself suddenly eager to make her exit. She felt no desire to be laughed at or mocked by this once intriguing stranger. She hurried off the swing and grabbed the backpack that she had casually discarded onto the grass in her haste. After situating it securely on her shoulders, she took a deep breath and began her path to the park gate. As much as she knew she should, Fiona simply couldn't resist the urge to glance up one last time at the boy, engrossed in his book; her curiosity and some deep, unnamed thing inside her just had to look at him again.

She would have been prepared to find him still thoroughly engrossed in his book. She would have been prepared to find him running as fast as he could away from the crazy girl who laughed at nothing. However, Fiona thoroughly was NOT prepared to look up and see him staring back at her, his brown eyes locked on hers, reading materials forgotten, and the beginnings of a smile playing on his lips.

It froze her in place, literally stopped her from moving another single step. Never before had this happened to her, and if she was thinking clearly, she would have found it very unnerving. However, Fiona was not quite thinking clearly, because when this boy looked right at her, and she saw him fully, she was blown away by how...gorgeous he was. On most people, untrimmed, messy hair would detract from their looks, but on him, it worked. She found herself wondering if he knew that, if he kept it that way on purpose. His skin was pale, but his eyes were so warm that they lit up his entire face; that much was clear to her, even at a distance. He leaned against the tree with the air of somebody comfortable in his own skin, and Fiona wondered if she would ever feel that way.

Almost as if it was happening in a slow motion, dream sequence, the smile playing on his lips turned into the real thing. If she thought he was attractive before, the smile cemented it. It was the kind of smile that lifted his whole face, and to top it off, he had dimples, which made the butterflies in her stomach go wild. As if she weren't frozen on the spot, as if she wasn't completely captivated by him, he raised his right arm and offered her a wave. This boy, who until seconds ago she had been sure wasn't aware of her presence in the park was now waving at her, and Fiona was equal parts thrilled and terrified.

She could feel her face heat up, and she worried that she would burst into flames, but from somewhere within, she found the courage she didn't know she possessed, and she waved back. It was just a wave, but to Fiona, it was huge. She was not the type of girl who did that, who waved at strangers, who went off to parks on wild larks, chasing after her own curiosity, but she didn't care. She had stopped at the park on a whim and she was glad she did, because this boy was smiling at her and waving. She didn't wait to see what his reaction to her wave was. Instead, she hightailed it from the park as fast as her legs would carry her.

Fiona was once again heading home, her pace rushed, but this time, it had nothing to do with studying or cooking dinner for her father. This time, it had more to do with the nervous energy that was coursing through her body, inspired by the beautiful, waving boy in the park. She knew, right in that very moment, that no matter how much studying she had to do, no matter how many dinners she should cook for her father, she would be stopping at this park much, much more often.


	2. Chemistry

**Hello friends! Here is the next bit. Hope that you enjoy, and if you enjoy, review! Also, had an issue with the last chapter. For some reason, the AN was appearing in the middle of the story. Should be fixed now, and sorry for the confusion!**

A 57% on her first Chemistry exam inspired their next meeting. Fiona had been to the park three times since their first encounter, but each time she had found it completely empty. Each of those times, she had taken consolation in the swing, feeling free to swing as high as she could and laugh as loudly as she wanted to without any fear of judgement from the empty park. She was beginning to wonder if she had imagined the whole thing, just spontaneously dreamt up a handsome boy waving at her, but she remembered the feeling too clearly for it to have happened inside her head.

Since waking up that morning, she had every intention of stopping in the park on the way home anyway, hoping to see her boy, or at the very least, see her swing. She wasn't sure when she had started thinking of him as "her boy", but she certainly did. She didn't know his name, so it wasn't as if she could think of him in a proper way. It had been nearly a week since she had found time to stop by on her way home, as she had been busy spending every possible minute studying for her Chemistry exam, and she was thrilled to finally have the time. She had a good feeling about the day ahead.

Fiona's good feeling lasted until her Chemistry teacher handed back exams from the day before. Hers had come face down, with a stern look that clearly said "do better". Despite the look, she held out hope that maybe it wasn't _that _bad, and perhaps the teacher just had remarkably high standards. She had studied for this exam until her brain was numb, after all. The red 57 at the top of the paper dashed her hopes. It really was that bad, and she didn't know what she was going to do. After class was dismissed, she went straight to the nurses office and claimed menstrual cramps, which allowed her to leave for the day.

She managed to keep herself in check and hold back her tears until she was off campus. Her feet walked along of their own accord, as her brain was not up to the task of thinking at the moment. Her father paid an awful lot of money for her to attend an elite private school, and Andrew Larkin always had high expectations for his daughter, and Fiona was usually up to the task. She worked hard to maintain top grades at school, but Chemistry was something that didn't come as easily as the rest did. She had tried so hard, and she did not even want to consider what her father might say.

Before she even knew it, she was at the park. For the first time, she was genuinely glad to find it empty, happy that her mystery boy was not there to bear witness to her failure. She bypassed the swing, knowing that right now, the wind in her face and the sensation of flying would do nothing to solve her problems. Instead, she parked herself below the tree, where she had seen him for the first time. Sitting against the strong trunk, she hugged her knees to her chest, buried her face, and let the tears come, knowing that crying wouldn't solve her problems either.

The sobs racked her body and the tears flowed freely. Fiona Larkin hated crying; crying was weakness, and in her world, weakness was not tolerated. A failing grade and tears in the same day would have her father balking with shame, and she knew that she should stop this; knew that she should dry her eyes and come up with a plan to break this news to her father and fix her grades. The problem was that, right this second, all she wanted to do was cry. She sat there and cried until there were no more tears. Once the sobs had passed, she sat there with wet cheeks and thoughts filling her brain. She had no idea how long she had been sitting, when she was interrupted quite suddenly.

"You're in my spot," came an unfamiliar and distinctly _different_ voice.

She looked up and came face to face with _him_. Of course this had to happen the one day she wasn't looking for him, the one day she had been glad to be alone. It was just her luck that he came along now, when her hair was an absolute mess and her tears had stolen any beauty she even might have had. Staring up at him, at this handsome boy who she had longed to see again, Fiona did the only thing she could think so do; she burst into a new wave of tears.

"What?" he asked, the panic evident in his voice. "Shit! No...don't...just, it's okay! Don't cry! I was just having a laugh! I don't mind if you sit here!"

Just like that, she was laughing. Of course, she was still crying as well, so it was a bit of a mess, but the laughter was genuine. The boy was fretting, shaking his head and flapping his hands around in front of him, clearly confused. The fact that he thought she was crying because of his joke and he was so concerned by that was incredibly endearing, and to Fiona, a bit funny.

"Sorry," she croaked out, shaking her head. Her tears and the stress of her current situation took away any nerves about actually speak to him, which, in a way, was a good thing. "I'm sorry, it's not you. It's just….it's just been a really bad day."

"Aye, I could kind of tell," he nodded in understanding, beginning to calm down himself. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a hankie, handing it to her. "Here. It's clean, I promise."

Just like that, her blush came back with a vengeance. "Thanks."

He stood awkwardly for a moment, before speaking again. "Can I sit, or do you wanna be alone?"

Fiona was accustomed to men running as far away from tears as possible, so the fact that he still wanted to sit mystified her. Instead of speaking, she just nodded her consent and moved over a bit, making room.

"Ah, that's better," he said, leaning back against the tree. He looked over at her. "Name's Filip."

"Filip," she repeated softly, dabbing at the edge of her eyes with the cloth. "I'm Fiona."

"Fiona," he tested it out on his tongue. "Fiona. I like it. So Fiona, why are you crying?"

She tried to hide how absurdly pleased she was by the idea that he liked her name. It wasn't too difficult, as his question brought to mind the reason for her upset in the first place. She took a deep breath before answering. "Chemistry."

"Chemistry?" he asked, confused. "What do you mean 'chemistry'? Are you upset because you're not getting on with your boyfriend or something?"

"What? I don't have a boyfriend" she asked, laughing at the absurdity of his question and completely missing the glimmer in his eye at the prospect of her not having a boyfriend. "No, I don't mean that kind of chemistry. I mean my Chemistry class. We got our first exam back today, and I failed. Miserably."

"Ah, okay," he clarified. "Well, do you have the test? Let me see."

She hesitated only a moment before relenting and pulling the paper from her bag and handing it to him. She was an intensely private person and wasn't the type to generally share, well, anything with others, but for some reason she trusted him. Besides, he had already witnessed her crying, so could it get much worse? Fiona watched him leaf through the test, nodding here and there.

"You go to that private school down the street a ways?" he asked, out if nowhere, without looking up from the paper.

"Saint Frances, yes," she told him, wondering why he asked.

He laughed. "All that money for a fancy private school, and your lazy arse of a teacher uses the same tests that the poor public school uses. And we are farther ahead."

"What are you on about?" she asked, confused.

"I took this test, last week," he told her with a shrug. "This exact test. And if it makes you feel any better, you did better than I did, but then again, I just used the answer sheet to spell out dirty words."

She laughed at that. "That does make me feel better, somehow. But I doubt it will make my father feel better. He's going to kill me."

Filip saw her lower lip begin to tremble again, and he had no idea how to make her feel better, so he just shrugged. "Fuck him."

"What?!" she exclaimed, not really believing her ears. Fiona wondered if he was serious. She would not even imagine saying anything remotely close to that directed at her father. In fact, there were very few people in Ireland that would ever dream of saying these words to her father.

"It's just one test," he explained. "And I am guessing that you haven't ever had a grade like this before, so he can't be too mad at you for it. Tell him you'll do better next time, and it will be fine."

She rolled her eyes. "That would be a wonderful idea, except I don't think I actually can do better than this. I studied for this exam, hard. It may as well be written in Hebrew."

"Well, Fiona," he said slowly, her name rolling off his tongue in a way that made her shiver. "That's why you're going to get a tutor."

"A tutor?" she asked, wondering at him and the way his mind worked. "Who on earth would tutor me?"

'Me of course," he smiled at her, and she was so drawn in that it took her a moment to process and reply.

"Didn't you just explain that you did worse on the test than I did?" she wondered, wondering what he was on about.

"Aye, I did," he confirmed. "But I also explained that we are ahead of you. Which means that I will get my tests back before you ever take yours. I can give them to you, if you'd like. That way, you'd know what to study and what to expect from the test."

The logic of it amazed her. Yes, in her heart, she knew it was considered cheating, but when faced with the prospect of failing Chemistry and earning the ire of her father, the school Honor Code didn't mean much to her. She HAD to pass, and besides, it wasn't as if she was planning on being a chemist when she grew up. Plus, there was the added bonus that she would get to see him, Filip, quite regularly.

"Do you offer to 'tutor' girls you just met all the time?" she joked, a smile on her own face.

"Just the pretty ones," he replied, his voice sounding serious.

His reply threw her and she once again felt the blush creep up on her cheeks. Nobody, except her father and her Nanny, had ever called her pretty before. Instead, they usually made comments about her dark skin or her crazy hair, but never positive ones. The fact that Filip, the boy she had been thinking about without end since the first time she saw him, had just called her pretty astounded her. Her mind attempted to construct an intelligent reply, but she wasn't having much luck. She was saved by a rather embarrassing growl that emitted from her stomach.

"Sorry!" she blurted out, completely mortified. "That was horrible. I ditched school before lunch. I didn't eat."

"Ditching school?" he raised an eyebrow at her. "What would your father think?"

"Shut up," she murmured, but without any malice.

He reached into his bag that sat next to him and and soon his hand reemerged with an apple. "Here," he said, handing it to her.

"Are-are you sure?" she asked, taking the ripe fruit from him.

"Wouldn't have given it to you if I wasn't," he shrugged, leaning back against the tree as she began to nibble on the apple. After a few moments, he spoke up again. "I expected you to be on the swing again. I've been coming here since the last time, hoping to catch you again."

Her mouth dropped open. Luckily, she had already swallowed the apple. "I-I just-," she stammered. "You've been coming here? To see me?"

"Aye," he nodded. "You ran out of here like a demon in a church last time. I thought I had spooked you. Was hoping to catch you again."

"It wasn't you," Fiona quickly insisted, trying to hide her own blush. "I just don't usually see people here and I didn't expect you to notice me. People don't usually notice me, not in a good way anyway."

"I don't believe that," he smirked at her, shaking his head. "Not even a little bit."

"Thank you," she said softly, still glowing red. She was thrilled to see him smile and develop a slight blush of his own. Fiona was not used to being complimented, and it seemed like he did not generally give them out so freely. Though it was not usual for her, it was something she found she liked. Either way, she was eager for a new subject. She chewed and swallowed another bite of apple before speaking again. "So tell me about you."

"About me?" he asked, surprised, before shrugging. "Not much to tell."

She rolled her eyes before repeating his own words back to him. "I don't believe that. Not even for a minute. Come on! You have already heard all about my failures as a student and how much I disappoint my father. You owe me."

He sighed, but did as she asked. For the next hour, he talked, and she listened. His voice was almost hypnotic as he told her about his family, about his life in Scotland, about moving to Ireland, and about his school. He even told her all about his comic books, which he was slightly obsessed with. The more she heard, the more she liked him, and she knew that this could end badly, but she didn't care at all. Of course, she could never, ever tell him that she liked him, but that didn't change how she felt.

The sound of bells in the distance cut through the air, setting Fiona on high alert. If she wasn't mistaken, those were the bells at St. Frances, meaning that right this moment, students were pouring out of the school building, heading home. Since Fiona was supposed to be home in bed with menstrual cramps, it wouldn't do for her to be seen here. She had to go, and she had to go now.

"Shit!" she shouted, jumping to her feet before clapping a hand over her mouth. She looked down to see him laughing at her use of curse words, and even she couldn't stop a small smile. "I need to go. I left school hours ago and if anybody sees me here…"

"Your father will kill you," he finished for her.

"Right," she nodded, grabbing her backpack. "I've got to go."

"Okay," he told her, looking a little less cheery than a moment ago. He pulled his comic book out of his pocket. "Go on, then. I've kept Batman waiting long enough."

She smiled at him and started towards the gate, knowing that she had to get out of there. Despite that knowledge, Fiona stopped and looked back. "Filip? Will you be here again? I mean, will I see you, soon?"

The megawatt grin was back. "Of course. I've got test to give you, afterall."

"Right," she said. "Right. I need the tests. I guess I will see you next week then."

He rolled his eyes at her. "I'll be here tomorrow, Fiona. And any other day you want me to be."

"Tomorrow then," she told him, before hurrying off, already eager for tomorrow to come.


	3. B

**Hi guys! Here is the next bit! Big thanks to the lovely folks who have messaged and favorited and followed. Make me keep writing! Please let me know what you think!**

"Filip!" she called out, unable to restrain her own happiness. She had only been on a first name basis with him for a week, and already he was the best part of her day, nearly everyday. He had really come through for her, the day after her unrestrained crying-fest. He had shown up at the park, but instead of his trusty comic book in hand, he had a chemistry exam.

Since then, for at least an hour, everyday, they poured over the test, reading and rereading each and every question, and constructing an acceptable answer. More accurately, she dissected the test, while he slacked off and tried to distract her. To be completely honest, his attempts worked more often than she wanted to admit.

Due to his constant attempts and her frequent allowances, she had been nervous to take this exam. Yes, she already had a copy of the test, but what if the teacher changed it? What if he used a different test? What if she didn't remember what she had studied and prepared? After her father's reaction to her previous failed test, she just had to do well on this one. She could perfectly recall the shade of red his face had turned, and the bulging vein in his forehead. She had managed to talk him down, to assure him that it was just the first test and she would do better, but it was not something she was eager to experience again.

Her worry was all for naught, as she quickly found out when she got her test back with a big B on the top. She had been careful to not get a perfect score, knowing that it would be highly suspicious, but it had thrilled her to realize that Filip had been right; the tests were exactly the same.

She had rushed out of school, her smile wide, and made a beeline for the park. She was excited; excited to see Filip and tell him of her success and just thank him for making it possible. She had come a long way in the week that she had known him, from an F all the way to a B, and yes, it was because of cheating, but she didn't give a damn. When she told him her grade, she knew that he would grin, and to Fiona, that would be worth every second of pouring over a stolen test.

When she arrived, the park was empty, but that didn't mean much to Fiona. Her school was closer, and that meant that she usually arrived before he did. She didn't mind; as it gave her a chance for a go on the swings, which were most definitely her second favorite thing about the park. She loved the rush she got from swinging deliriously high and not having anybody tell her to stop or to slow down like her Nanny had done when she was a child. It was very strange, but nothing made her feel more grown up than swinging as high as she wanted on a swing at a park. Well, nothing except the semi-secret meetings with a boy she was quickly developing an insane crush on.

She hopped off the swing and made her way towards the tree watching as he did the same, eager to share her news. This had become their habit; she would swing until he arrived, and then she would join him under the tree, where they would sit side by side until it was time for her to leave. Each day, they found themselves making excuses to stay longer and longer. Sometimes, Fiona would suddenly need help reading the handwriting on the test, of Filip would become a remarkably slow reader and his comic would take ages to end. Fiona wondered what she would tell her father today when he asked why she was home late.

As Fiona approached their tree, test clutched in her hand, the excitement bubbled up in her chest. She was so thrilled about her grade, and she knew he would be, too.

"Hey! I've been waiting for you! You'll never guess-" she started, before cutting herself off quite suddenly. Her mouth dropped open at the very sight of him. Not much was different; same unkempt school uniform, completely with shirt untucked and discarded tie hanging from his pocket. Same messy, gorgeous hair. Same casual, easygoing smile. The only thing different was the black eye he sported, as well as the drops of dried blood on his shirt collar. "What happened to you?"

"Hey," he replied, shaking his head. "I'm fine."

"Really?" she asked skeptically. "Because your face says otherwise."

He grinned and shrugged. "Well, you should see the other guy."

She glanced down at his hands. She thought that he had beautiful hands, though she would gladly keep those thoughts to herself. There were bruises and scrapes decorating his knuckles, and she had seen enough in her life to know that whoever he had been scraping with was probably in much worse shape. He had always been so incredibly kind and gentle and relaxed around her, and she had never suspected him to be a fighter. The fact that he was sent a wicked thrill through her, one that she would never speak of.

"Filip," she started, trying to keep her voice steady. "Are you sure-"

He laid a hand on her shoulder, which stopped her words instantly. He ducked down a bit, so they were eye level. "I am sure. I'm fine, Fi. Don't worry yourself over it. Please."

She wanted to ask him what happened, wanted to know who he had fought with, but there was a tone evident in his voice that told her not to push it. While she was curious and concerned, she didn't want to be seen as a nag. He seemed eager to let the subject drop, so she allowed it to. Unfortunately, she wasn't sue what to say, her eagerness to share her test gone with the sight of his black eye. Instead Fiona turned away and went to sit against the tree, Filip following suit.

They were quiet for a moment, lost in their own separate thoughts. She was worried about him. He was tall and well built, and she didn't doubt that he could handle himself, but he hadn't grown up around Belfast like she had. Fiona wondered if he knew that there were some people who he shouldn't smart off to; wondered if he was aware that a scuffle with the wrong person could leave a teenage boy dead in a ditch. She was so wrapped up in these horrifying scenarios that she almost didn't hear him speak again.

"That your test, then?" he asked, gesturing to the papers now crumpled in her hands. Her own worry had worried the paper, and now it was a bit of a mess. She didn't much care; her father could still hang it on the fridge if he wanted to.

"Oh, aye, it is," she muttered, blushing at how easily she had been distracted from her test success.

"Well, let's see it then," he demanded, nudging her with his shoulder. "Can't be any worse than last time."

She bit down a smirk at his assumption that she was upset over her test, rather than worried over him. "Take a look then."

He grabbed the test, surprise lighting up his face. He poured over it, never losing the smile on his face. It didn't take him long to go through all three pages of the exam, and soon he let it drop from his hands.

"Wow, Fi," he grinned at her. "You cheat like you've been doing it your whole life!"

"Don't I?" she let the smirk shine through now. "And how do you know I haven't?"

"Just a good guess," he admitted. "You're a good girl. Good girls don't cheat."

She ignored his comment about her being a good girl. If she knew some of the thoughts that had crossed her mind about him, he likely wouldn't be so quick to describe her as good. "Do you like how I didn't score perfect, as not to rouse suspicion?"

"That was a genius touch," he nodded. "I couldn't be any more proud."

She laughed outright, the thought of hiding her laughter never even occurred to her. There was a time not long ago when he had heard her laugh and that had caused her to panic. She was glad that she had moved past that rather quickly. She had laughed with him more often than she had with her family, and she would never be able to tell him how thankful she was for that fact.

"Did you bring the next one?" she asked, looking up at him, basking in the warmth of his happiness. "I am going to need to 'study' even harder if I want to do better the next time."

"Course," he assured her, pulling the twice folded test from his pocket. She noted that he hadn't even bothered with subtlety, this time just flat out writing the curse words in response to essay questions, instead of spelling them out on the test grid. Unlike her, his test scores had not gone up. She wondered for a moment if there was anybody who would yell at him because of it.

"Filip?" she questioned, hesitantly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Think you just did," he remarked, removing his latest comic from his backpack, before shrugging and glancing over at her. "Ask away."

"Why don't you pass these tests?" she wondered. "You're smart. Really smart. You read like crazy-"

He rolled his eyes, "Comic books aren't chemistry."

"Doesn't matter," Fiona insisted. "You read it and you can repeat it back word for word if you wanted to. And you do the same thing with my tests. You read all of the answers, and you know whether I am right or wrong."

"So you think I could pass chemistry based on the fact that I can read?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"Filip," she shook her head. "I know you could do better bas on the fact that I know you, even if it has only been a week. You...you are so great, and you are so smart. And you could do so, so much if you tried."

He sighed and looked away. "Fiona. Why do you care about passing these tests?"

His question confused her; he already knew the answer. "I told you, because my Da will kill me if I don't."

"Right," he confirmed. "Because your Da...he wants you to do well and be successful. Know what my da wants? To be as far away from me as possible. That's why he's back in Scotland. My Ma has too much to worry about with keeping a roof over heads and food in our stomachs. She doesn't pay thousands of pounds for me to go to a school like yours. She doesn't care what grades I get. She knows I will turn out just like my father. Trust me, Fiona. Nobody is going to kill me because I am not passing these tests. Nobody gives a shit."

"I do," she murmured.

"What?" he asked, absolutely certain that he hadn't heard her right.

"I care," she told him, daring herself to reveal more than she knew was wise, but she didn't care. "You're my friend, Filip. I care about you, and I know you could do better."

He locked eyes on hers, and she realized that her words meant something to him. They weren't speaking, but that was okay. They shared something, and she couldn't tell exactly what it was, but it meant more to her than most things in her world.

"I got in a fight," he spoke suddenly, surprising her. "Because some guy, some stupid arsehole who's name I don't even know….he said your name. He talked about you like he had the right to, and it pissed me right off. I don't know why I hit him, and I couldn't make myself stop."

"Filip," she breathed, not knowing what to think. He had hit somebody, pretty hard from the looks of it, for simply speaking of her. There was definitely something wrong with her, but it was the nicest thing anybody outside her own family had ever done for her. Now, it was her turn to lay a hand on his shoulder. "Alot of people talk about me. You can't hit them all."

He grinned at her. "I sure as hell can try."

She felt like a lunatic, but she couldn't help but giggle. The thought of him punching every person who had ever been mean to her was too much to even manage. She tried to take a deep breath and calm herself, but it didn't work. The laughter spilled out of her, and she couldn't control it. He looked at her for a moment, trying to decide if she was crazy or not, but eventually, his laughter joined hers, and they were two idiots, sitting in a park, laughing at the ridiculous, and neither of them wanted to be anywhere else.


	4. Bet

**Hi guys! I could spend the next hour or so apologizing for the delays in posting this chapter, but there is really no excuse. Suffice to say that life has been kind of tough lately. But I am back! I will be updating my other story soon as well. I will make no promises as to how often I will be able to update, but as often as possible. I promise! Anyway, hope that you enjoy this chapter. Forgive any editing errors and whatnot. I am still getting back into the swing of things, plus I am updating from the Atlanta airport and this was written in a turbulent sky. Also, I haven't slept in like, 20 hours. So there's that. **

Fiona swung lazily, her feet skimming across the ground as she glanced at Filip from the corner of her eye. It was Friday, and they had a long weekend. Three days without school. Not long ago, the thought of being free from school for three day would have thrilled her. A long weekend meant that she didn't have to worry about dressing appropriately, or fitting in with her classmates, or scoring well on tests. However, a long weekend also meant that she didn't have Filip to keep her company, either.

"Shouldn't you be studying, Fiona Rose?" he wondered from where he sat against the trunk of the shady tree, never looking up from his own notes. Ever since she had relented and told him her middle name, he couldn't stop himself from tossing it out once in a while, just to tease her.

"No, there is plenty of time for that," she insisted easily. "I think the real question that needs answering is why on earth are you studying? Your next test is a week away, and it is a beautiful afternoon!"

She was certainly right about that. The onset of October had turned the air more crisp, but the sun was there to guard them from getting too cold. Fiona glared at the textbook resting easily in his hand. It was a rare, perfect afternoon in Belfast, and it irked her that Filip was spending it studying.

"You see," he explained shrewdly. "This young lass I know very recently went on a rambling tirade, spouting off all of these rubbish things, telling me I 'was smart' and I 'could do better'. It wouldn't be right to make a liar out of her, now would it?"

"You think you're so funny," she muttered, narrowing her eyes at him, though anybody could tell she wasn't serious.

"Aye, and so do you," he shot back, a smirk playing on his lips. "Besides, you are doing enough slacking off for the both of us."

"I'm not slacking off!" she told him, scandalized at his accusation. "I am swinging!"

"Same difference," he shrugged, licking his finger and using it to turn the page, as if he knew exactly how nuts that made her.

"Of course you would say that," she laughed. "You never swing. I suppose you're too cool?"

"No," he scoffed. "Just too old. Swinging is for kids."

"I am NOT a kid," she told him, the humor gone from her voice. He didn't notice.

"Could have fooled me," he told her, his eyes still scanning the book, making it easy for him to miss the hurt look on her face. There wasn't a girl alive who wished for the handsome boy she had a crush on to call her a kid. It was bad enough that her father, her teachers, and literally every other person in her life treated her like a little kid. She had hoped it would be different with him. His off-handed remark had wounded her, and he didn't even know it yet.

Like any strong, stubborn Irish woman, her hurt quickly hardened into anger. "Oh shut up, why don't you! At least I know how to have a bit of fun. At least I do more than mope around under a tree all afternoon. You probably don't even know how to swing, anyway. No wonder you won't do it!"

Fiona knew that she had taken it leaps and bounds too far, knew that he had only been kidding around with her, as was his nature. However, her temper got the best of her, as it occasionally did. She considered it a credit to her character that instead of hitting him, she pushed off the ground, hard and worked to propel herself through the air. Filip sat in stunned silence, mouth hanging open, for a full minute, trying to process what happened. He thought that they had just been bantering back and forth, just kidding around, but now she was clearly upset with him, and he wasn't sure what to do. After thinking hard on it for a moment, the best he could come up with was to just answer her back.

"I can so swing," he called out to her, tossing his textbook aside and hauling himself off the ground towards the swingset.

"No you can't," she brushed off his reply and continued, to push herself higher. She wasn't making much headway, but she would.

He sighed heavily, and that annoyed her, but before she could push herself any higher on the swing, he stepped out in front of it, catching the chains in his hand. She ran right into him with the momentum of the swing, but he didn't budge. He held the swing steadily until it stopped moving completely. When he looked at her, his face was serious.

"You mad at me?" he questioned, his words quiet, although there was no need for it. They were quite alone.

She shook her head, feeling instantly bad for snapping at him. She didn't take well to being treated as a little kid, but he had no way of knowing that. The way he looked at her sometimes, the way he treated her; somewhere deep down, she really doubted that he thought of her as a kid. She had just let her temper get the best of her, as it sometimes did.

"No," she offered him a small smile, noticing that he hadn't let go of the swing chains, even though it had stopped. "Sorry I yelled at you."

He shrugged and gave her one of his smiles, the kind that made her dizzy for a moment. She was suddenly very aware of how close he was standing. "A lot of people yell at me. I'm kind of used to it."

She rolled her eyes in an attempt to ease the nerves that had hit her at his close proximity, quickly falling back into the familiar teasing. "I don't blame them in the least. You're a bit infuriating. Now if you don't mind, I am trying to swing."

"No, see, I don't think you are," he refuted immediately. "See, I was trying to study, and you taunted me with claims that I can't swing, and now it's time for me to prove you how wrong you are. Hop off."

"Are you serious? You're going to try to swing?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

"I'm not going to TRY to swing!" he insisted, exasperated. "I am GOING to swing. Higher than you ever have to boot."

He was venturing outside of his own comfort zone, and she was well aware of it. He had admitted once, after lots of questions and pleas, that he was not at all thrilled with heights. Of course, the swing set was far from high off the ground, but it sure felt high enough when you were moving through the air. Filip was taking a risk here. She glanced up at his hands, still clutching the chains only inches above her own. If he could take a risk, than the very least she could do was play along with it.

Biting her lip and meeting his eye again, she nodded. "Okay, Filip Telford. I'll let you try this fool's errand. But I want to know...when I win and prove once and for all that I am the champion of swinging, what do I win?"

"Win?" he quirked an eyebrow. "You're that confident that you can swing higher than me?"

"Of course I am!" she smiled up at him. "Now tell me, what am I going to win?"

He thought on it for a moment, before returning her smile. Filip shrugged. "Whatever you want."

"Whatever I want? Are you so sure YOU are going to win, that you would risk giving me whatever I want?" she asked, more than a little surprised at his response.

He nodded at her, letting go of one of the chains and motioning her off. For a moment, they stood toe to toe, staring each other down. It wasn't awkward, but the butterflies in Fiona's stomach were doing their best to make it seem that way.

"What about you?" she thought to ask, still swimming in confidence that she would win this challenge. "If by some miracle you manage to win, what will your prize be?"

She should have known she was in trouble the second she saw the grin stretch across his face. She had seen his smile a thousand times, under many different circumstances, but she had never seen anything like this. There was something primal, something almost cocky in his expression when he shrugged at her and leaned close, so close that she could feel his breath brush past her ear.

"My prize," he repeated softly. "Is simple. Just a kiss is all, Fiona Rose. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a wager to win."

And with than, he situated himself on the swing and motioned for her to move out of the way, never losing the smirk that decorated his face. She moved mechanically, absolutely stunned. A kiss? He wanted a kiss? From her? She couldn't process even the idea of that, no matter how hard she tried. She had harbored a crush on him for as long as she had known him, but never for a minute did she believe that he saw her as anything other than a friend he killed afternoons with. Was it even possible that she had been wrong about that? Was there even a remote chance that he possibly felt something more as well?

She had been sitting in a haze, pondering that question for long enough that she nearly missed his swinging skills on display. When she was finally able to focus, she was shocked at how high he had gotten. Had she really been zoned out for that long? Judging by the look of him, possibly not. She shamelessly stared at him as he swung; at his long legs working in tandem with his shockingly muscled arms and back to push himself through the air, faster and higher than she could even dream of getting. She had always admired him and his looks, but she blushed to realize now exactly how beautiful he was. There was no other word to describe it.

She had only been truly watching him for seconds when she realized that she was going to lose the bet. He was going higher and higher with every upswing. Within moments, his toes were brushing the tree branches that he generally sat under. Her mouth fell open as he let out a whoop of victory, like a conquering hero. She had never swung that high, and they both knew it. He had won.

He began to slow the swing as a swell of nerves mixed with a healthy dose of excitement washed over Fiona. He had won, and he had declared his prize to be a kiss. When he got off of that swing, he was going to expect her to pay up, and while she definitely wanted to kiss him and then some, she had no idea how to even begin to deal with the reality that it was about to happen. She wondered for just a brief moment if he was even a little bit nervous.

He hopped off the swung once it had slowed enough and approached her with what can only be described as a genuine swagger. Nervous was definitely not a word anybody in their right mind would use to describe him at the moment.

"So," he proclaimed, his accent coming across particularly strong. His voice had a way of getting to her, but in light of what was on the table, she barely registered it. "Looks like I win."

She swallowed heavily. "Looks like."

He was standing right in front of her, smile plastered across his face, and Fiona found that she was having a hard time breathing. She knew what he was after, and she was more than willing to give it to him, but if she couldn't even breath correctly, how on earth was she ever going to manage kissing him?

"Everything okay, Fiona Rose?" he asked, still cocky, but with genuine concern edging in.

"No," she answered before thinking. "I mean, yes. I mean…I just…I don't usually lose I guess."

"Is that it?" he prodded, laying one hand gently on her shoulder. She could feel his warmth, and never failed to be surprised by how kind and easy he could be. He was good, straight down to his core, and no amount of bravado could shake the fact that she couldn't be anything but truthful with her.

She shook her head and sighed. "No. I'm just…nervous."

He stared at her for a moment, his eyes calculating, as if trying to figure out the mysteries of the world. She gazed back at him, not willing to break eye contact, not for anything. She had no idea how long they stared each other down, but along the way, he lost the smirk and his eyes turned serious. For the second time in less than an hour she was stricken by just how beautiful he was. Shockingly, stunningly gorgeous.

Out of nowhere, the smile reappeared on his face, softer this time, but still there. He leaned close to her and her lungs ceased to work, but he barely allowed his lips to brush against her cheek before he pulled back.

"Wh-what?" was all she managed to stammer.

"Relax Larkin," he told her easily, before leaning close to her again and making her do anything but relax. "When I kiss you, Fiona Rose, it's not going to be because I won a bet."

Her jaw dropped open again, and she wondered if she had any control over it anymore. She had been barely breathing, walking around on eggshells since he first mentioned the word kiss, and now here he was saying that he wasn't going to do it? Right then, she decided that she did, in fact, have control of her own jaw. Her hands rose before she had time to second guess herself, and she clutched his shirt in her fists and rose to her toes, pressing her lips against his with as much finesse as she could manage.

Fiona didn't have much experience with kissing. It was clumsy and rough, all the while surprisingly gentle. His hands rested on her hips and he tasted like everything good in the world and she couldn't recall a time when she had been happier. It was perfect.

When they broke apart, it was only because they both needed air. Neither of them was willing to move far from the other, so they stayed as they were, foreheads pressed together, breathing heavily.

"Wow," she murmured.

He cracked a grin again. "I would say wow covers it. Anything else you want to bet on Fiona Rose?"


End file.
